The Blue Ridge Project: A Dark Suspense Novel (The Project Book 1) (19 page)

Robert watched Richardson and his lackeys bring the equipment down to Andrea's cell. He heard the screams and seen the flashing blue lights, and looked on as they carted out their gear afterwards. He cowered away from the window when the guard's eyes passed over his cell window.

When he heard the sound of the door at the end of the hall closing, he went back to the window and knocked.

“Andrea? You alright?”

There was no answer for a long time, then he heard her.

“...bastards.”

“What did they do?”

“Tied me down and drugged me. Flashed some light in my eyes and asked me what I wanted.” Her voice was throaty, raw.

Robert frowned. “What you wanted? What did you say?”

“I told them I'd rip their bastard throats out. Then they stopped.”

Her face appeared, framed in the small porthole window of her cell door. She was pale, her eyes were dark, and her hair was wild. He put his hand on his window, and after a few seconds she responded in kind on her own door.

“Just hold on, we've got to keep our shit together long enough to figure a way out of this fucking place.”

“I can't think straight, this stuff they injected me with has me feeling woozy.”

Suddenly, Robert remembered the folder, forgotten under his mattress. He pulled it out and started leafing through the pages of diagrams and notes. There was a section of a page titled
Health Of The Subject
. Scanning the text, he stopped at a short passage that had some of the words underlined.

Subject condition is of paramount importance with regard to operational efficiency. Injuries, external or internal, interfere with the chemical balances necessary as the brain releases the associated neurotransmitters. Subjects
must be in optimal condition in regards to their health.
Injuries and physical traumas must be treated
immediately
to ensure ideal operational capacity.

The cogs of his mind began to turn, and the beginnings of a plan began to take shape. He went back to the window and took a deep breath. If they were being listened to, he was about to find out.

“Hey,” he shouted, “are you hungry? I'm starving.”

He saw Andrea's puzzled expression, and tipped his nose with his index finger. She nodded.

About a minute later, the door at the end of the hall opened. The sound of footsteps was followed by a tapping at his door. He froze, fright squirting into his belly.

“Rob?” Jimmy's voice. Robert stood, wary.

“What do you want?”

“They sent me down here to see if you wanted something to eat.”

Okay, so that's that answered
. He rubbed his chin.
Something to eat
. Robert's brow furrowed in concentration, and his eyes fell upon the crayons on the small desk in the corner of the cell. Green. Yellow. Blue.

Red.

“Hey Jimmy, you still want to make up for the shit you've done?”

When he answered in the positive, Robert went to the door and whispered to him for a few minutes.

*****

“Hey! Hey, somebody, come quick! I think she's dying!” Jimmy ran to the door at the end of the hall and flung it open. “Hey, something's wrong with Andrea!”

A few seconds later, a guard in black stalked down the hall and stopped at Andrea's door. He had a considerable weight advantage over Jimmy, who stood well back. The guard looked through the window then lifted and twisted the handle. She was on her back on the floor in the middle of the cell. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth and jaw were covered in red vomit.

“Ah shit,” he grunted. Then he knelt beside her and cradled her head in his hands.

Her eyes flew open, and in a second she had her thumbs embedded in his eyes, pulping the eyeballs.

The guard screamed, high-pitched, full of pain and surprise.  Her lips pulled back from her teeth, and she grunted with the effort. Blood and matter oozed out and ran down her hands in thick streams. His closed around her wrists and she dug her nails into his skin, ripping open several gashes as he pulled her hands off. Letting her go, his hands clapped to his face and he pulled back from her. Like a snake striking, she shot forward and reached for his side-holster, unclipping the strap holding the gun there. His hands came down and narrowly missed grabbing her. She pulled it free and fell backwards.

As she fell back she flicked off the safety and aimed, getting off three shots. They all connected, the bullets punching into the guard's torso. He slumped forward onto her legs, dead and bleeding.

She kicked him off, wiped the crayon residue and drying vomit from her mouth with her forearm and stood up. Dizzy, her ears ringing from the gunfire, she steadied herself against the doorframe then stumbled out into the hallway. Jimmy stood there, his mouth hanging open, his eyes darting between her face, the gun and the body in the cell behind her.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

The door at the end of the hall banged open, and two guards stepped through, weapons drawn. Andrea turned slowly, gun hanging by her side.

“Drop it,” one of the guards shouted, voice steady.

“Go fuck yourself,” she answered.

“Our orders are to shoot only if completely necessary. You don't have to die right now. We're not there yet.”

Not yet
, she thought.
Let's see which one of you fucks is the quick one
.

“Hey dickheads.”

The voice came from the doorway, and both guards turned. Two seconds and four shots later, before they had finished turning, they were both dead.

Behind their corpses, Cap and Hynes stood, guns in hand.

The hallway smelled of gunfire and bleach, although the gunfire smelled considerably stronger.

Robert banged on his door from the inside.

“Hey! ” he shouted, “what happened?”

“It's all right, I've got visitors,” Andrea said, and smiled as she walked towards Cap. They embraced for a moment, their grip tight on each other. After they separated, her and Hynes hugged.

“What took you guys so long?”

“Sorry Annie,” Cap said. “I had to round up the troops.” He waved his revolve
r―
the same one she had used to end Lyon
s―
in Hynes' direction. “Who's the wallflower?”

Jimmy stepped forward, shaking. “I'm Jimmy, Jimmy Tarvill. Please, don't kill me.”

“Can somebody let me out of here?” Robert asked, face pressed against his window.

Andrea nodded at Cap and then lifted the handle on Robert's door. He stepped out, breathing a sigh of relief. Looking at Andrea's hands and the blood on her legs, he whistled.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said, “That's what I said.”

“Alright,” said Hynes, “anyone care to tell us what the fuck is going on here?”

“How many guards are left?” asked Andrea.

“No more on the way in. That doesn't mean there can't be more on their way.”

“Okay then,” Robert said, “we'll try and be quick.”

*****

When Hynes and Cap had been brought up to speed, and Robert explained the folder that Jimmy had brought to him, they turned to Jimmy.

“So what's your part in this, little man?” Cap asked, reloading the spent bullets in his gun as he spoke.

Jimmy swallowed. “I'm a technician, I set up some of their equipment, computer connections and the like. That's it, man, I swear. They put me on to this extra detail by force, told me they'd off me if I didn't.”

Cap looked at Andrea. “You believe him?”

“I don't know what I believe, Cap. These pricks are masters of mind-fuckery, but I will say that this. He did pass along Robert's idea about how to bust myself out.”

Robert nodded. “I'm not sure either, but for now, it can't hurt to keep him close.”

Jimmy breathed out, sagging a little with relief. “Thanks, guys.”

“Great,” Hynes said, “now that we have a quorum or whatever, how's about we get out of here?”

“Not yet,” Robert said, “I want to get some answers as to why we’re here in the first place.” He turned to Cap and Hynes. “Is the doctor dead already?”

“Richardson?” Cap said. “No, I think he’s locked in his office. I fancy paying him a visit myself.”

“Fine. Let’s have a little group session with the good doctor.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Andrea, “let's get the fuck away from these cells.”

Cap clapped her on the shoulder. Then the five of them stepped out of the hall and towards Richardson’ office.

*****

Richardson’ office was soundproofed, so when Andrea kicked down his door she found him sitting at his desk with a decent-sized glass of expensive brandy in his hand. He spilled it as he stood up and raised his hands in front of him as the group advanced towards his table. Andrea was in front, looking like something out of a nightmare, or a vengeful spirit.

“Please, just don’t shoot!” he said, backing up towards the wall.

Andrea stepped forward and grabbed his shirt collar.

“I haven’t decided on that yet. If your answers are good enough I’ll take your request into consideration. Then again, I might just do what we talked about before.”

Richardson swallowed and nodded, his gaze darting between Andrea's red mouth and the guns that Cap and Hynes were holding. When his eyes met Jimmy's, he couldn't suppress a sneer.

“Tarvill. I should have known better than to trust a technician with something so important.”

Andrea struck Richardson hard with the butt of the pistol, and a slim trickle of blood ran from his nostril.

“No more speaking unless spoken to. Now, why are we really here? What was all that shit with the lights and the drugs?”

Richardson's mouth was shut tight. She lifted the gun and placed the barrel over his eye, her jaw clenched.

“All right!” he shouted, and wiped away blood away from his nose. “You were both chosen. Candidates for an experiment that we’re conducting.”

“Why?” Andrea asked, pulling the gun back a few inches.

“Because you fit a profile. And in your case, Mr. Duncan,” he said looking at Robert, “it was almost like you wanted to come back to us.”

“What are you talking about?” Robert asked, frowning.

“Read the notes, see for yourself.” He pointed with his chin towards his desk, littered with papers and folders. Robert stepped forward and ran a hand over the myriad of pages there.

“What profile?”

“Angry. Prone to violence. Traumatized. When you were admitted to hospital after shooting Mr. Lyons, it was a simple matter of convincing your doting captain here to release you into our care.” He paused and looked at Cap. “After he had you put to work one last time, of course.”

Andrea turned to look at Cap, and he nodded, a tear rolling down one cheek.

“I’m sorry, Annie. They didn’t give me a choice. They said you’d be taken care of, I had no idea what they would…” He trailed off and looked down at his feet.

Hynes looked sideways at him, and then back to Andrea, without saying a word. He couldn’t meet her eye.

“You, too?” she asked, the hurt obvious in her voice.

Hynes nodded, unable to speak. She turned back to face Richardson. Her face was cold, her eyes haunted and burning.

“That doesn’t explain the fire in my apartment, or the murder-suicide of Steve Solas.”

Richardson cleared his throat.

“Test runs, Ms. Nox. Merely test runs of our work. You wouldn’t understand.”

Robert looked at Jimmy. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”

Jimmy shook his head, and Richardson snorted.

“Of course he doesn’t. Do you think we’d let him have any real information? His role was to get you to trust him enough to find your father’s notes and bring you to us. After that, his memory would be wiped, manually.”

Jimmy felt the scar at the back of his head, and his eyes narrowed. “Fucking shysters,” he muttered.

Andrea brought the gun down from beside Richardson’ head and drove it into his testicles. He doubled over, retching, his face turning red.

“Your patient is getting impatient. Help me understand what you’re doing here, Doc, or I’m going to start putting sharp objects in uncomfortable places.”

Richardson held up one hand until he could catch his breath, then nodded. The smug tone wasn’t completely gone when he spoke again, but it was definitely diminished.

“All right, just wait,
I―
”

His head rocked back as if Andrea had hit him again. She leaned back slowly, frowning.

“What's wrong with him?” Hynes asked.

Richardson stood up straight, a grin plastered over his face. Andrea saw that his pupils were growing and shrinking rapidly, and she thought of the guard who had appeared at her cell before.

“Richardson?” she asked.

He barked laughter, and moved forward with a speed that Andrea never imagined the old man was capable of. Before she could react, he had her pistol pointed at his head again, his thumb over her finger on the trigger. He pushed down and painted the wall behind him in blood and brain, the sound of the shot deafening in the small office space. Andrea pushed his body away and it fell against the wall, leaking blood onto the polished wood floor.

“Jesus!” Robert and Cap shouted in unison.

“Andrea, what the f
u―
” Hynes said.

“He shot himself! I couldn't pull away. I didn't expect...”

Cap stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “It's okay, Annie. It's alright, take a breath.”

“His eyes were all fucked up. I think there was something wrong with him.”

After a number of seconds staring at Richardson's corpse, Robert moved to the papers stacked haphazardly on the desk. He picked up and scanned a few of them, seeing mostly scientific texts and reports. Phrases jumped out at him.

Subject has exceeded parameters, unclear to what extent;

Previous security protocols must be revised, possibility of catastrophic containment breach must be considered;

Advise initiation of secondary tests with new subjects, control group...

He let the sheets in his hand fall and pulled open the top drawer of the desk. There he found blue folders with names written on the tabs. Mortimer. Nox.

Duncan.

“What the shit is this?” he muttered as the others moved forward.

“What did you find?” Andrea asked.

He didn't answer, and instead flipped open the folder with his name. There were some pages of standard information about hi
m―
height, weight, his parents' names, a profile pictur
e―
followed by a large black and white photograph. Robert gasped and fell into Richardson's chair.

It was the photo that Line had given him of the senator and the children. On the accompanying page, there was a handwritten note.
Fantastic leverage on Frey. Perfect for getting into Duncan's head when we start running tests down the line too.

“Isn't that that senator?” Andrea asked, looking over his shoulder. “That's...” Her mouth fell open, silent as she saw the face of the boy being tortured, the curving wound that would become a scar on an otherwise handsome face. “Lyons,” she whispered.

Robert looked up at her, seeing his own shock reflected in her expression. “Who is Lyons?”

“I think that boy grew up and became the cop that I shot. That was what he talked about before he died, about men in suits and things they did.” She shook her head, bedraggled hair moving around her face. “These people have their hand in everything.”

She turned on her heel. “Did you know about this? Any of you?”

Cap, Hynes and Jimmy shook their heads. Cap's eyes were still on the picture, his face set like stone. She turned back and took the file with her name on it. Inside, she found pictures from the news stories about her parents being killed, a copy of her police personnel file, and some crime scene photos from her showdown with Lyons. There was a brief evaluation of her, listing 'violent tendencies' and 'numerous effective personal tragedies' under the heading 'Useful.'

While she read through the pages, Robert opened up the Mortimer file. It was considerably thicker than the other two, and there were stacks of papers detailing financial records. Robert recognized Sandra and Trevor Mortimer's profile pictures, but was unfamiliar with the obvious key person in the file, their son Frank.

“Listen to this,” he said, “'Francis, or Subject Three, is the most promising candidate we've discovered so far. Suitably disturbed, with a history of abuse at the hands of family members. The funding they've provide
d―
and will continue to provid
e―
comes with the added bonus of hereditary predispositions towards the exact psychological make-up necessary for successful testing. We couldn't have orchestrated a better candidate if we set it all up ourselves. The family's connection with Frey is icing on the cake, and another reason I love these small cities: the degrees of separation are so low.' That's Francis Mortimer, son of the wealthiest family in Beacon. What are they doing with him? Why wasn't he down here with us?”

“The Mortimers have their fingers in every dirty bit of shit in this city,” Cap said. “I'd say I'm not surprised, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around all this.”

Robert turned to another page. “What did you say earlier, about murder-suicide? Steve Solas?”

Andrea looked at Cap. “What about it?”

“There's a page here on him too, and some other guy named Bill Greene. Says here Greene was some contractor for a pharmaceutical company. Next to them there are some other names. Arellano, Kale. Do they mean anything to you?”

Andrea nodded, slowly. Cap ran his hands through thinning hair. “These people have been giving us the fucking runaround from day one.”

“What are they doing?” Hynes asked. “What is all this shit about, and why do they want crazy people?” Everyone turned to Jimmy, who held up his hands as if to ward off their gaze.

“Hey, I don't know, I'm not a scientist or a psychiatrist or whatever these people really are.” He paused. “I can take you to where they're doing it, though.”

Andrea looked at him, then each of them in turn. “If nobody wants to say it, I will. This turns out to be some ruse, I will put a bullet in you.”

“I swear, I'm telling the truth! They fucked with my head as well, I want to get back at them as much as...” Jimmy looked at Andrea's hands, the fluid from the guard's eyes dried and flaking, then to the hint of red still around her mouth. “Well, maybe not as much as you, but I'm still on your side.”